Category: Constitutional and Legal History

The problem with the United Kingdom is not a lack of a ‘written constitution’ but the lack of constitutionalism

30th March 2021

This is just a quick post to draw together a couple of points in my law and policy commentary that appear to some people to be contradictory.

On one hand, this blog and my commentary elsewhere relentlessly point out the constitutional failings and trespasses of this government – especially the propensity of current ministers to evade or remove checks and balances.

On the other hand, I am not a fan of a codified constitution (popularly though misleadingly called a ‘written constitution’) and can indeed be quite dismissive of those who contend it is a panacea for our political ills.

How can I be one and not the other?

Usually my first response is to aver that any written constitution would be more likely than not to entrench executive power – especially one which was introduced while the government had a high parliamentary majority.

But there is a second reason which I should perhaps emphasise more – especially when the knee-jerk accusation is that any legal commentator is legalistic – and that is that there needs to be a change in political culture.

‘Constitutionalism’ means taking constitutional rules and principles seriously in any given political circumstance – that things should be done or not done in a certain way because constitutional rules and principles matter in and of themselves.

One can have constitutionalism within a political system without a codified constitution – indeed the lack of codification arguable makes the following of basic constitutional precepts more important in political action.

And in the United Kingdom, there have been constitutionalist politicians in all parties.

The merit of constitutionalism is an acceptance and appreciation that there will be tensions between the elements of the state and that there are certain ways in which these tensions can and should be addressed before they harden into conflicts.

Without the political culture of constitutionalism, however, there is no point in having grand words in a codified constitution.

In the current politics of tribalism and hyper-partisanship – especially where the government wishes to eliminate all checks and balances – what is needed more than ever is a sense of constitutional propriety.

Some may aver that constitutionalism would be a happy consequence of a codified constitution – though the recent example of President Trump in America perhaps indicates that even with codified constitution there can be rampant anti-constitutionalism.

The revival and promotion of constitutionalism, however, would require political leadership –  for leading politicians to insist there are principles and rules that are distinct from the partisan self-interest.

And writing in early 2021, such a shift in political culture seems as remote as any codification.

***

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Why Ministers are less practically accountable than Judges – and how the accountability gap is the most fundamental problem in United Kingdom government and politics

29th March 2021

Many will have Very Strong Opinions about the basic ills in the United Kingdom political system.

Some will point to individual politicians (Thatcher, Blair, Johnson, Corbyn, Farage etc) or political parties (Tories!).

Others will point to political ideas (Brexit, Remain, Centrism, neo-liberalism, ‘woke’-ism).

A minority will aver that there are structural failures – unelected head of state or upper chamber, the lack of proportional representation, and so on.

Perhaps these views are correct, but the more I write about the law and policy of the United Kingdom, the more there seems one particular fault in the conduct of public public affairs.

Accountability.

It is almost impossible – in practical terms – to hold many with executive power to account.

Of course, there is constitutional theory – such as the supposition that ministers are accountable to parliament.

But even typing or saying that  feels artificial if not ridiculous.

Ministers routinely avoid saying things to parliament and, if they do, they are adept at saying untrue, or misleading, or incomplete things.

And there is no real sanction if a minister does mislead or disregard parliament.

That ministers are accountable to parliament is not so much a constitutional principle, but a lack of a principle.

It is a rhetorical cloak that hides the lack of any real accountability.

Contrast with, say, judges.

A judge has to give reasons for their decision – and those decisions must explain why they took that decision and not any other decision; the decisions of judges can be appealed or reviewed by other courts; and the law applied by a judge can be changed.

You may sneer at judges in their (daft) robes and wigs, but they are practically day-to-day accountable in at least three ways.

Ministers, in contrast, do not need to have reasons that add up for most of their decisions; they are free from having those decisions properly scrutinised by their political peers; and there is no real limit to what they can legislate if they are so minded.

And apart from the remote possibility of a legal challenge, or an eventual general election, they are safe from actual accountability.

There are various causes of this:

– the elective dictatorship of parliament, where the government also has control of the elected part of the legislature, is a primary cause;

– the lack (with a few notable exceptions) of a press that is geared to holding ministers to account rather than being a means of transmission of information from/about the government to the public;

– the hold that political parties continue to have in the recruitment and promotion of candidates;

– our tribal and increasingly hyper-partisan political culture;

– the increasing lack of care of voters about being lied to by ministers – for, as this blog has previously averred, there is no practical point exposing the lies of ministers if people do not mind being lied to; and

– the absence – despite the Very Strong Opinions of constitutional hobbyists – of a consensus for what alternative constitutional arrangements would be an improvement.

(‘We demand a written constitution’ say those who rarely then explain how a written constitution would not just be an opportunity by the executive to entrench its own power.)

An index of how weak our constitution is in respect of accountability is how, when things go wrong, it is customary to demand a public inquiry.

For if our constitutional worked well in respect of accountability then there would be proper scrutiny at the time – and public inquiries would be an exceptional event.

Mere exposure of problems is not enough – indeed, few of those who think anything about our public affairs will be unaware of many of the problems.

It is instead an everyday failure to get ministers to engage with those problems, to explain what went wrong and to say how the problems can be addressed – the very stuff of accountability.

So many things in our political system now point away from this lack of accountability being fixed quickly.

And so the accountability gap widens and widens.

Brace, brace.

***

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The performative nastiness of the Home Secretary

24th March 2021

The office of home secretary is one that often does not bring the best out of its occupants.

Indeed, for a while the phrase ‘former Labour home secretary’ was one of the most illiberal phrases in the political lexicon.

Once could think of exceptions – Roy Jenkins, of course, and to a limited extent William Whitelaw and Douglas Hurd (though the latter two only seem more ‘liberal’ by comparison).

On the whole, however, just as certain experiences bring out the worst in human nature, being home secretary can bring out the worst in any politician.

But.

At least former home secretaries had the grace to pretend otherwise.

Remember the grave sorrowful face of, say, Jack Straw as he solemnly warned of the need of some ‘tough new measures’ – enticing you to nod-along with his sense of national emergency.

And Theresa May as home secretary even once stunned the police federation with a full-on speech about police reform.

In essence: the home office was a tough-old job, but some politician had to do it.

But what home secretaries did not do – at least not in public – is revel in the capacity of the office to cause harm and upset.

And so we come to the current home secretary.

Today’s news is typical of their approach:

Before May was home secretary there was a famous conference speech – framed in cautionary terms – about the Conservative Party becoming the ‘Nasty Party’.

For the current home secretary that speech has instead become a manifesto.

And as someone has averred on Twitter, this is not exceptional to the United Kingdom:

https://twitter.com/DaemonAAc/status/1374633353031389185

The Cruelty Is The Point.

(See here.)

What an unpleasant vista this is on our current politics.

The important thing to note, however, is not so much (yet) that the powers and objectives of the home office have profoundly changed.

These are just about the sort of policies that other home secretaries may have adopted – and not only Conservative politicians.

What seems novel (at least to me) is the sheer glee which accompanies the announcement and promotion of each policy announcement.

One shudders to think what the current home secretary would do publicly if the office still have the power to (not) commute a death penalty.

And rhetorical change can have substantial consequences: each great office of state is subject to and can shape public expectations – that the chancellor, for example, can and will do things in respect of the economy generally, and with taxation and spending in particular.

The more the home office is loudly deployed as a vehicle for nasty policies, presumably the more the demand for more such policies.

And so the approach of the current home secretary cannot be written-off as just vile verbiage: it may and perhaps will lead to more repressive policies.

*

All this is an example of a more general problem with the current political arrangements of the United Kingdom.

The lack of political and constitutional self-restraint – and the removal of the gate-keepers.

There has never really been anything before – other than custom and decency – that has prevented a home secretary exploiting their office in this way.

Just as there was nothing which stopped the prime minister from using the prerogative powers in various unfortunate and unwise ways.

What the home secretary and some other ministers are now doing is showing openly what the constitution of the United Kingdom has long been capable of permitting.

And so what is demonstrated by this exercise of performative politics is not just the politics of the current home secretary – but that there is nothing in place that can prevent such things.

***

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Union Jacks being placed indoors in politicians’ offices is a constitutional distress signal

23rd March 2021

*

“They’re selling hippy wigs in Woolworths.”

– overheard in Camden Town, 1969

*

In thirty-five years of reading and writing about the constitutional history of the United Kingdom I have never given a second thought to the Union Jack (or Union Flag).

To the extent I thought about flags at all, I just had a vague notion that they were things which people in other countries had – like the fact they put their country names on postage stamps while the Royal Mail does not.

It was not so much that I felt strongly against a flag – I just did not really think about it at all.

And now it seems to be the most potent political issue of our age.

It is all very strange.

*

Let us start with the law providing that the Union Jack is our national flag.

There is no law providing the Union Jack is our national flag.

Indeed, it seems there was doubt that the Union Jack was our national flag until the early twentieth century.

Here is a revealing exchange between three earls in the house of lords in 1908:

From that exchange we can infer that in the Victorian period the Union Jack was not regarded widely as the national flag – else there would be no need for such a debate and clarification in 1908.

So it may not even be Victorian nostalgia – but something of which has only been a big thing for a hundred years or so.

Another ‘invention of tradition’ as some historians would say.

*

There are two things, however, which one must know about the Union Jack.

The first is that some people will have Very Strong Opinions on whether it is called a Union Jack or a Union Flag – though those three earls of the realm were quite at ease calling it a jack.

The second is that the same people are also likely to have Very Strong Opinions on which way up the flag should be flown.

This blog does not have such strong opinions.

But the one thing which seems to be overlooked in the current heated political controversy about flags is that, well, they are supposed to be flown outside – on land or at sea.

That is the point of a flag, if you think about it.

*

To have political arguments about flags in indoor rooms seems, on this basis, to be rather weird.

It is like having a row about closed umbrellas.

Our ancestors did not give us much guidance about the Union Jacks being indoors as political props, as it may not have occurred to them that a flag would ever be used for such a purpose.

*

That said, there is some trace of flags in our legislation.

In schedule 1 of the grandly titled Town and Country Planning (Control of Advertisements) (England) Regulations 2007, there is this provision for things that do not need consent:

But nothing about flags inside.

*

This lack of any formal recognition of a national flag is not surprising in those often casual arrangement that we describe as the constitution of the United Kingdom.

A thing can be – and presumably cease to be – a national flag without any legislative intervention.

A thing can become official in an unofficial way.

Whether this relaxed approach will continue in this age of hyper-partisanship and performative nationalism is unlikely.

One can quite imagine a new act of parliament ‘enshrining’ the Union Jack as our national flag, with ‘tough new offences’ to ‘crack down’ on disrespect.

One wonders how we managed so far.

*

The timing of this phenomenon is telling.

By reason of Brexit, there is a non-trivial likelihood that there will be Irish unification and maybe also Scottish independence in the next few years.

So there is a real risk that two of the crosses on the Union Jack will soon not be there if the flag were ever to be adjusted for accuracy.

(Though one can quite imagine England carrying on with the Union Jack even with the loss of Northern Ireland and Scotland – like those pop bands that still tour with just one original member.)

And although it is easy to mock this flag-showery, it is not without political purchase, as my wise Financial Times colleague Robert Shrimsley avers:

But taking this sensible warning seriously, there still seems symbolism in this, well, symbolism.

Lore tells us that a Union Jack flown upside down was a sign of distress.

It is almost as if the current prevalence of indoor Union Jacks – upside down or otherwise – is itself a distress signal – and one for the future of the Union.

Brace, brace.

***

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Time for a peer review – why focusing on just fixing the problem of hereditary peers would not be enough

22nd June 2021

The Sunday Times this weekend did a good piece of journalism on the hereditary peers in the house of lords.

Who could possibly disagree?

Well – certainly not this blog, in principle.

Removal of the hereditary element in the house of lords is one of many ‘micro’ reforms of the constitution of the United Kingdom which should be done – regardless of the interminable ‘debate’ on the merits of a codified constitution.

*

Yet.

Here are some things to think about as you nod-along.

There are other (perhaps even worse) problems with the composition of the house of lords: the power of patronage of party leaders – especially the prime minister, the rights of bishops of just one denomination of one church to have twenty-six votes, the number of life peers who do not take any active role but can be summoned to vote, and so on.

And contrary to the impression given by the headline of that piece: ninety of the ninety-two hereditary peers sitting in the house of lords do not have automatic seats – they are elected by the hereditary peers generally.

This means, somewhat paradoxically, they are the only members of the house of lords that are there by means of any sort of electoral process.

They are also free from any allegiance to any party manager or any debt arising from an act of patronage.

In other words: they are part of the legislature outside the control of the government or party leaders.

*

But.

Whatever the case that can be made for hereditary peers in the house of lords, they still need to go – and sooner rather than later.

Some constitutional abominations are too awful to be tolerated.

And removing the hereditary peers would also make the house of lords more, shall we say, ‘legitimate’ in its constitutional role.

(And can we please get rid of all the mock-chivalric-pseudo-feudal-medieval titles while we are at it – if you really want to be a lord or lady of something, join a historical enactment society.)

All that said: there should not be the removal of one of the genuinely independent features of the house of lords without regard to the overall balance.

There is little to be gained from clapping and cheering the removal of the hereditary peers if the effect would be to tilt the balance of the house of the lords towards more governmental control.

For, as the constitution of the United Kingdom currently stands, the house of lords is the most effective check and balance to a house of commons dominated by the government.

The house of lords cannot block any legislation – and nor should it, as it does not have any democratic basis – but it can force the house of commons to think again and more carefully about its legislative proposals.

And often the reasoned amendments of the house of lords are accepted by the house of commons – and, indeed, often the house of lords amendments can provide convenient cover to ministers who eventually realise that the initial proposals were unsound.

Given that the most important constitutional function of the house of lords is that of a check and a balance – rather than to be a chamber with a rival democratic basis – then the most important quality is that it should be independent.

Stripping out one feature that provides any independence in the upper chamber should thereby be matched by other measures to maintain that independence.

That is why there should be a more general (ahem) peer review.

*

And luckily, there has actually been a useful review.

The Burns report of 2017 puts forward sensible and persuasive proposals for reforming the composition of the house of lords while keeping its independent constitutional role.

The key proposals are to limit the size of the upper chamber and to convert lifetime membership (of the life peers) to a single term of fifteen years.

That report, however, did not make direct proposals for the hereditary peers and bishops.

But, in principle, there is no reason why such a reform could not also mean the removal of the hereditary and spiritual peers – as the overriding objective of a balanced upper chamber outside the domination of any government of the day would be retained.

So – yes, nod-along with the attack on the hereditary elements and, also yes, let’s get rid of them – but when the nodding-along ends, let us also make sure we have not ended up with a less independent upper house in our current constitutional arrangements.

***

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The Clown and the Constitution

21st March 2021

Sometimes the usual superlatives do not seem enough – ‘brilliant’, ‘excellent’, ‘outstanding’ do not give justice to a thing.

So all I can aver is that the article ‘The clown king: how Boris Johnson made it by playing the fool’ by Edward Docx is perhaps best piece of contemporary political observation and analysis I have come across for a long time.

If you have not read it, go and read it now – else the rest of this post will make little sense.

And if you have read it, go and read it again.

This is because there is no way that a summary of that article by me will be adequate.

*

Everything Docx says that touches on certain law and policy issues over the last few years is true.

Brexit is indeed ‘an act of symbolism at the expense of everything else.’

The lack of seriousness about law as an illustration of the the lack of seriousness generally:  ‘the teetering unicycle of Johnsonian buffoonery – A-levels, school meals, foreign health workers and more. A country of tumbling catastrophes. Trampolining absurdities. Go to work. Don’t go to work. A country proroguing parliament illegally here, trying to break international law there.’

The dislocation between the heady claims of political language and the mundane realities of political substance: ‘we became a country in which there was only the mock heroic – a “world beating” country that would “strain every sinew” and give “cast-iron guarantees” while bungling its plans and breaking its promises. A country “ready to take off its Clark Kent spectacles” and act “as the supercharged champion” of X, Y, Z. A country on stilts – pretending that we had a test and trace system that was head and shoulders above the rest of the world.’

The nature of the campaign for Brexit and the insincerity of Boris Johnson’s role: ‘the likes of Iain Duncan Smith, David Davis, Steve Baker, Nigel Farage, Mark Francois, John Redwood, Gisela Stuart, Kate Hoey et al – were never more than a dim congregation of rude mechanicals. And what they required to win was someone who instinctively understood how to conduct a form of protracted public masque.’ 

And so on.

Docx’s depiction of the character and approach of the current prime minister is unmatched.

Falstaff, the Fool, the Clown, has indeed taken over as king.

*

At the end of Docx’s article, however, he posits that there are hard challenges that cannot (easily) be avoided by the clowning prime minister:

‘The difficulty for the clown is that once truth and seriousness have been merrily shattered, they cannot be put back together and served up anew. Or, to put it another way, the buffoon who has just entertained the audience by smashing all the plates cannot now say that he proposes to use them to serve up a banquet in honour of himself becoming a wise and honest king. Everyone can see: the plates are all in pieces on the floor.’

One of these challenges is more policy than law – the many serious failures of the government United Kingdom in respect of the Covid pandemic.

Here Docx points out that Johnson is now seeking to tell a story so as to lift him out of any culpability:

‘Are we supposed to forget this legacy and “move on”? That is what Johnson is now tacitly suggesting. Like all storytellers, he knows the public remember endings, less so beginnings and seldom the middle. He did all he can, he says. He knows it’s not true, but that is what he is selling.’

Here Docx appears to be doubtful of his own plate-smashing analogy.

People may elect not to see the damage: Johnson can – and may well will – distract us by more plate-smashing: world-beating plate-crashing, no doubt.

The other challenge, however, is squarely constitutional.

And that is the future of the union.

*

Docx rightly observes that there is a pending constitutional crunch: ‘the realm really is still falling apart. Johnson’s predicament could not be more starkly illuminated than by the next existential challenge he faces: to do with the very nature of the union of England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland.’ 

Johnson’s predicament here affirms the truth of the old Hebrew proverb about the difference between a clever person and a wise person: a clever person can get out of situations that a wise person would not get into.

The lack of wisdom here, however, is not that just of Johnson.

The folly of the in/out referendum was that of David Cameron, and the infliction of a ‘hard Brexit’ (with the United Kingdom outside the European Union customs union and single market) was by Theresa May.

Wiser heads – who realised the precariousness and fragility of constitutional arrangements – would not have risked the future of the United Kingdom, as Cameron did, on one turn of pitch-and-toss.

Nor would they have insisted on an extreme form of Brexit in the first few months after the referendum, as May did.

Johnson was not responsible for either of those two calamitous decisions, which in turn have created what Docx rightly calls the ‘existential challenge’ of keeping the union together.

The fool may have become prime minister – but only after the two previous prime ministers had made the most foolish of decisions.

And given those foolish decisions – and their necessary implications for the position of Northern Ireland – then there is not a great deal that Johnson can do.

The clown has not so much taken over the stage: it is more that supposedly wiser rulers have left the stage to the clown alone.

And, of course, Johnson will approach the problem with his strategic dishonesty and tactical buffoonery – but, frankly, what else has he got?

The constitutional logic of the Brexit that was in place before he became prime minister will continue to unfold.

Slapping sticks is perhaps all that is left.

*

All this said: never underestimate the trickster.

A clever person may be the one who gets out of situations that a wise person would not have got into – but the clever person may still do so all the same.

And as Docx avers: ‘the clown is always in a deeper relationship with the audience than with his ostensible subject.’

The plates that may now smash will be as big as the union itself.

The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland may not last another few years in either form or substance.

But the clown-king may still be able to get away with it – and still be prime minister of whatever is left, with claps and cheers for more.

The audience may never see or care what damage is done in the meantime.

And this is not just because of the skills and talents of the clown-king but because of the stage we are now at in the story of Brexit and the United Kingdom – to use a phrase of Johnson’s earnest antonym as prime minister – there may be no real alternative.

*

“Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company?”

– Act V, Scene 1, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

 

***

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Whoopsie: the government did not get the commission report on judicial review that it was hoping for

 19th March 2021

*

‘Toulouse’s suggestion was not what Audrey wanted to hear.’

– Moulin Rouge

*

Sometimes – just sometimes – in the world of law and policy there are moments when welcome things do happen.

Back in August 2020 this blog covered the government’s announcement of an ‘independent panel to look at judicial review’.

It did not seem a promising move: just an attempt by the government to find cover for an assault on judicial review by means of a hand-picked commission.

But.

It is sometimes strange how things turn out.

The commission has now reported – and just a skim of the report shows that the government did not get the report it was hoping for.

In large part, the report appears to be an affirmation of the current position of judicial review – with minor changes that it is hard to feel strongly about.

(A close read of the report may dislodge this happy impression – but that is this blog’s preliminary view.)

The concluding observations of the report could have even be a post on this very blog:

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In receipt of the report, the Ministry of Justice decided that it would try harder to find people to tell them what they wanted to hear.

*

‘We want to keep this conversation going.’

We can bet they do.

Like a frustrated news show producer who cannot find any talking-head expert to say the desired things, the Ministry of Justice is now resorting to a Vox Pox.

*

At bottom, the problem here is a mismatch, a dislocation – such as those recently discussed on this blog.

The discrepancy is between the heady rhetoric of ‘activist judges’ – a rhetoric that has a life of its own – and the mundane reality of what actually happens in courts.

The commission, to their credit, looked hard and reported on what they saw.

Yet those Ministry of Justice, to their discredit, want to keep on until they are told what they want to hear.

Perhaps the Ministry of Justice will get what they want – and then move to limit judicial review.

One can never be optimistic about law and policy for very long, and the illiberals and authoritarians are relentless.

But this report is a welcome break from the push towards populist authoritarianism in our political and legal affairs.

**

For a more detailed account of the just-published report, see Paul Daly’s blogpost here.

***

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What now stands between a populist authoritarian government with a huge majority and a full scale assault on civil liberties and human rights?

 18th March 2021

Earlier this week the house of commons passed the government’s illiberal Police, Crime, Sentencing, and Courts Bill with a ninety-six majority.

So given this high majority the obvious question is what would actually stop or hinder a populist and authoritarian government from seeking to pass primary legislation that would remove or undermine basic legal protections and rights? 

This is not a trivial or academic question.

The usual ‘gatekeepers’ that would prevent a government from not even proposing such things are no longer in place.

For example, the offices of lord chancellor and attorney-general are occupied by politicians who happen to be lawyers but have no credentials in protecting either the rule of law or fundamental freedoms.

And we have a government heady with ‘will of the people’ rhetoric that has developed a taste for attacking or disregarding what checks and balances the constitution of the United Kingdom has to offer.

*

In constitutional theory, the next check – once legislation is proposed – is the house of commons.

But with such a large majority – and the tendency for even supposedly ‘libertarian’ government backbenchers to vote in accordance with the whip and accept limp front-bench assurances – there is no realistic way that the house of commons is any check or balance on this government.

And if the opposition do oppose – which cannot be assumed, given the official opposition’s habit of not opposing things for tactical and strategic reasons – then such opposition can and will be weaponised by hyper-partisan ministers and their media supporters.

*

Next there is the house of lords, where (fortunately) the government does not have an in-built majority.

And the house of lords can vote things down and pass amendments.

But.

When constitutional push comes to political shove, the house of lords will usually backdown once the house of commons has reaffirmed its support for a measure.

This is in part that the the house of lords has a, well, constitutional disability in respect of confronting the democratic house.

There will only be a few occasions where the house of lords will use its power to delay legislation under the parliament acts.

And that power is that: to delay.

A determined government, with the support of the house of commons, will get its legislative way in the end.

A government in these circumstances would not even need to resort to an ‘enabling act’ – as it would get through any desired illiberal legislation anyway.

There are a very few exceptions to this: such as a bill containing any provision to extend the maximum duration of a parliament beyond five years.

But otherwise: there is nothing that can ultimately stop an illiberal bill eventually becoming an act of parliament.

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And then we come to the courts.

Here we have another problem.

Because of the doctrine of parliamentary supremacy there is nothing that the courts would be able to do – as long as the government has ensured that the statutory drafting is precise and tight.

The human rights act, for example, provides no legal basis for an act of parliament to be disapplied.

The judgments of the European court of human rights are not binding.

The European communities act, which did enable a court to disapply an act of parliament on certain grounds, is no longer part of domestic law.

‘Common law rights’ capable of frustrating an act of parliament exist only in undergraduate law student essays.

Even with the powers the courts do have, the government is seeking to limit access to judicial review by all possible means: in substantive law, by procedural restrictions, and by denying legal aid.

(And the courts have taken an illiberal turn anyway: and we now have a president of the supreme court, in an unanimous judgment, telling the court of appeal off for not according ‘respect’ to a home secretary’s assessments.)

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Before the general election of December 2019 we had the unpleasant predicament of a government that was populist and authoritarian – but at least it did not have a parliamentary majority.

Now, by reason of that general election and its result, we have a government with the same illiberal instincts but with all the sheer legal force of parliamentary supremacy at their disposal.

That the opposition parties facilitated an early general election in December 2019 was a moment of political madness.

And now – until at least December 2024 – we have a government that is able with ease to get the house of commons to pass the most illiberal legislation – and there is ultimately nothing that either the house of lords or the courts can do – as long as the legislation is precise and tight.

Brace, brace.

***

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The contest between sovereignty and legitimacy – the dilemma for the Crown

10th March 2021

Yesterday the writer Reni Eddo-Lodge tweeted a brilliant observation about our constitutional and media arrangements:

This blog post expands on this brilliant observation.

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The starting point is sovereignty.

In the United Kingdom – or at least in England and Wales – the ultimate source of all legal power is the crown.

Acts of parliament derive their force from royal assent – and thereby so do all powers exercised under those acts of parliament.

Certain entities – such as the British Broadcasting Corporation – owe their legal existence to the legal magic of a royal charter.

Executive power other than under acts of parliament often is exercised under the royal prerogative or under the Queen’s privy council.

The jurisdiction of the high court is based on the old courts of the king’s (and queen’s bench) and the lord chancellor as keeper of the monarch’s conscience.

Magistrates are often justices of the (king’s and queen’s) peace.

And prosecutions and other proceedings in public interest are brought in the name of the crown – including at, well, the crown court.

The legal sovereignty of the crown – like turtles – goes all the way down.

(There are those who aver that this doctrine is a royal peculiar in respect of the constitutional law of England and Wales, and that the sovereignty of the crown may not have the same effect in the laws of Scotland and Northern Ireland.)

*

But.

Sovereignty is not the same as legitimacy.

The legal source of power does not, by itself, render that power acceptable by the governed – at least in many complex societies. 

Those who have and use ultimate power also need to have – or be seen to have – legitimacy.

In a republic, this problem can be addressed by the term ‘the people’.

The authority of a constitution is derived from ‘the people’ – and even prosecutions can be brought in the name of ‘the people’.

CTL+F “crown” > CTL+R “the people”.

Of course, in practice ‘the people’ may well have as little actual influence as they would do under a monarchy.

But that does not seem to matter.

Things are expressly done in the name of ‘the people’ and this appears to make all the difference.

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In a monarchy such as the United Kingdom the contest between sovereignty and legitimacy is met by the phrase ‘constitutional monarchy’.

The sovereignty – and powers – of the crown are thereby subject to the constraints – the checks and balances – of a constitution.

(And, yes: a country does have a constitution even if that constitution is not codified in a single written document – for there is a descriptive answer to the question ‘how is this country constituted?’) 

These checks and balances apply not only to things done (or can be done) by a monarch himself or herself but also to things done with powers derived from the crown.

For example, an act of parliament will still need to be interpreted and applied by a court, regardless of royal assent.

And a prime minister and government is accountable to parliament.

Parliaments, in turn, are subject to periodic general elections.

And so the people are, in an indirect way, in charge – even if not formally as ‘the people’.

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But what happens when a ‘constitutional monarchy’ does not have (much) legitimacy?

As this blog set out in a recent post, the crown is a markedly fragile and malleable institution – notwithstanding its familiarity and durability.

For example, when the Queen was born in 1926, her grandfather had taken the throne as king of both Great Britain and Ireland, as well as emperor of India and elsewhere – and as she grew up, the majority of Ireland became a republic and the empire converted to a commonwealth, while the next king – her uncle – was forced to abdicate by a bunch of politicians.

The Queen and her inner circle are acutely aware of the precariousness of the monarchy.

So this need for constant validation.

For as Eddo-Lodge points out, the one thing that the monarchy really cannot do – by definition – is expressly seek the consent of the governed. 

And so, not being able to obtain our consent, it seeks our approval.

But the approval – or apparent approval – of the people cannot be easily sought or obtained other than through the structures of the established media.

(The extent to which the internet and social media has disrupted and will continue to disrupt this predicament is not yet clear.)

Here we come to the tweet to which Eddo-Lodge herself was responding, from the commentator Mic Wright:

That the monarchy constantly needs such approval is not a bug of our constitutional arrangements, but a core feature.

And that the media – that can regulate that approval – in turn will use and abuse that power of conferring (apparent) public approval is also not a surprise.

With great power usually comes great irresponsibility, whatever the political philosopher Benjamin Parker says otherwise.

We therefore have the worst of both worlds.

A source of sovereignty that is needy for legitimacy, but one which cannot obtain that approval directly and so is dependent on a media that will naturally abuse its power.

There is therefore a hole at the centre of our constitutional arrangements.

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Most of the time this gap does not matter.

Days and weeks pass, royal scandals come and go, and things look calm and carry on.

Crises are averted – and the crown and the media negotiate a new relationship of use and abuse.

But.

Sometimes crises may not be averted, and the problems that do come will not then conveniently go.

And there may be a reckoning.

The constitutional equivalent of a credit crunch.

Perhaps the fall-out from the Meghan and Harry interview will not lead to any great upset – nor any fall-out from the activities of other members of the royal family.

Perhaps all this will be soon forgotten, with the coming of spring and the (heralded) end of lockdown.

Yet, even if the ship of state stabilises it will still be just as prone to capsizing.  

And that is ultimately because the sovereign cannot obtain legitimacy directly from consent, and so needs our approval instead.

***

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The day after the Meghan and Harry interview – how the crown is more precarious than many realise

8th March 2021

A recent post at this blog averred that while the Netflix show The Crown gets a lot of the historical detail wrong it probably gets one wider point right – that there is a constant sense of precariousness felt by the Queen in respect of the monarchy of the United Kingdom.

By ‘precarious’ I do not mean a fear that the whole shabang will suddenly crash down – but instead that there is an ongoing sense of insecurity and instability which may or may not lead to wider insecurities and instabilities, and that this needs management and vigilance.

One suspects that the Queen is highly conscious of the institution’s fundamental changeability – she was ten when her uncle was forced to abdicate by a bunch of politicians; when she was twelve Ireland elected their own president and when she was twenty-two Ireland was explicitly a republic; and as she grew up generally the British empire was converting into a commonwealth, as elsewhere other monarchies declined and fell.

Only with hindsight do we see the period after 1952 as one of continuity and durability in our constitutional history – it probably did not seem that it would necessarily go that way seventy years ago.

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Of course: the monarchy of the United Kingdom is to a certain extent a special case.

Indeed – the very term ‘United Kingdom’ indicates that it is the monarchy that defines the current combined political identity of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

Few other countries make the very political form of their constitutional arrangements the term by which they are generally known – the obvious other example is the United States.

And as that previous post on this blog also averred, the crown is so deeply embedded in our constitutional arrangements – it is, for example, the conceptual basis of power for each of the executive, the legislature and the judiciary – that to change everything over to a republic scarcely seems worth the time and effort.

(Though, of course, once upon a time, the United Kingdom leaving the European Union also scarcely seemed worth the time and effort – but it happened anyway.)

The crown also has its loud and intimidating defenders in the media – though that very loud intimidation may in turn be seen as an indication of insecurity.

Because of all these things, the institution of the monarchy is not likely to disappear in a political instance.

*

But.

The institution of the monarchy is also not bound to stay in its present form either.

In the lifetime of the Queen herself, the monarchy has gone through profound changes – while projecting the comforting image of things staying much the same.

From king of Great Britain and Ireland and emperor of India, and elsewhere, to what we have now – via a forced abdication comparable in constitutional significance to the ejection of James II in 1688-9.

The monarchy has, since the year of the Queen’s birth in 1926, perhaps gone thorough more changes than in any ninety-five year period since 1701.

So to project the last ninety-five years of royal history forward is not to see more stability, but to expect more fundamental change – including maybe the departure of Northern Ireland and Scotland from the United Kingdom.

(Though no doubt the ‘United Kingdom’ will keep calling itself that, just as some gongs are still named the order of the British empire.)

In essence: the present – and, for us, familiar – arrangements of the monarchy of the United Kingdom are not fixed and eternal.

They have profoundly changed in the lifetime of the current monarch – and they can profoundly change further.

***

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